


Yellow

by clarkoholic



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-02
Updated: 2010-04-02
Packaged: 2017-10-08 15:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarkoholic/pseuds/clarkoholic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It was a beautiful place, once."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yellow

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/tarsus_iv_fic/profile)[**tarsus_iv_fic**](http://community.livejournal.com/tarsus_iv_fic/) challenge.
> 
> Prompt: #39: _It was beautiful once._ &amp; 44: _Art "It was a beautiful place, once." Sunny young Jim in a pastoral landscape, only a few dark hints of the horrors to come._ The art is at the end of the story.

  
He reaches down and runs his hand across the tall yellow plants, their tips grazing against his palm in the familiar way they did years before. He looks out over the vast rolling hills, with their bountiful fields of vibrant flowers and fully bloomed trees, and he frowns wistfully. The meadow waves easily with the cool breeze and nostalgia rises up within him, making his gut twist in revulsion. This Tarsus IV countryside is alive and flourishing, seemingly untarnished by the blood it grew from.

A young Ensign commented on the planet's beauty as the shuttle landed. She was barely twenty years old and probably only remembers the stories that stain the Universe's history books. She probably didn't realize which planet she was complimenting because when another Ensign leaned over and whispered something, her expression turned pale and remorseful. He tightened his jaw and looked away from her, out at the blaring landscape that mocks his presence and existence.

It's a routine scientific mission. He thinks. He didn't make it past 'Tarsus' when reading the weekly mission schedule. It took him right up until he was stepping into the shuttle to decide to come along. He didn't _need_ to be there, except that he did, only for other reasons. Bones came with him, citing some irrelevant excuse, but Jim knows it's for the support he didn't ask for. He's silently grateful.

The others are back at the new colony. He mumbled something about taking a walk before disappearing into the intensely colored fields he thought he'd never see again. The planet looks exactly as it did before—like it's hiding its shameful secret beneath the gilded landscape—and that makes him feel ill.

Even the sweetly scented air takes him back to running through these fields, trailing Sam's much faster sprint, tasting that same scent through gulping laughs. Sam would turn around and yell, with a big wave of his arm and shining smile, "Come on, Jimmy," and Jim would pick up his pace, trying in vain to catch up. They wouldn't slow as they reached the edge of the pasture, jumping straight into the glistening pond, each trying to jump farther than the other.

He remembers thinking they were _so lucky_ to spend the summer with their aunt and uncle in the most beautiful place he'd ever seen. It was going to be the best summer of their lives, like in the old Terran books where you sleep under the stars and drink fresh lemonade everyday. They would return to school sun kissed with bleached hair and stories about their adventures. Their friends would be so jealous. He and Sam would forever have those fond memories that strengthened their bond as brothers.

That's how it should've been, he thinks now, staring aimlessly across the rippling meadow. Instead he's left with vicious images of rotting wasteland and superfluous death. It's been fifteen years and he still doesn't understand why he was left without a brother to share his memories with.

People often tell him he's beautiful and it cuts deeper each time. Sometimes he stands in front of the mirror, categorizing his 'beauty' and wonders what wasn't beautiful about Sam. What made Jim the one of the two deemed ideal, making his life worth more?

He always thought Sam was perfect. Older, stronger, faster, smarter, cooler, he was everything Jim wanted to be. He was the beautiful one.

He abruptly realizes Bones is standing next to him—the crunch of plants under his boots catches Jim's attention¬—and he barely conceals a flinch of surprise. Bones is the only person who can sneak up on him. Jim doesn't have barriers that can keep the man out.

A warm hand clasps his shoulder firmly and Jim exhales, willing his tension to dissolve under Bones' solid hold.

"It was a beautiful place, once," Jim eventually says.

He senses Bones turn his head and cock his eyebrow. "Its beautiful now, Jim."

Jim looks at him blankly and quietly says, "No, it's not."

Bones studies him and Jim has to look away from his searching eyes. He feels the resigned breath Bones blows out before the hand on his shoulder squeezes compassionately.

"I'll come get ya when it's time to leave," Bones says, his voice gruffer than its usual timbre.

Jim nods and Bones turns to walk back to the colony, taking his comforting presence with him. Jim lets out a huff and starts walking further down the sloping hillside. He stops in the middle of a patch of vivid yellow and sits.

The breeze whistles around him, stirring up pollen wisps and sugary fragrances and memories of sleeping under the stars and picking fresh lemons off the trees. In the wind, he can hear distant sounds of laughter. He closes his eyes and pictures he and Sam chasing each other through the fields again, smiling and laughing and living.

This may be the place Sam died, but it's also the last place he lived.


End file.
